


2 - Choices

by PapayaK



Series: Whump > Boredom [2]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapayaK/pseuds/PapayaK
Summary: Whump > Boredom
Series: Whump > Boredom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727218
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	2 - Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Like many of us, I’m bored. (I love being bored - really gets the creative juices flowing) I really wanted to write something epic, but apparently that doesn’t happen on demand. So I have decided to write a bunch of snippets of whump. (like Whumptober) Some will have a bit of story - others will be a shameless excuse for pure whump. My goal is to keep them all around 1000 words, but we’ll see. Also, fair warning, I’m putting this note at the beginning of each one since I don’t know which one you’ll read first.  
> Thank you for reading and please review if you have a moment. -Papaya

Shawn could hear his dad’s voice in his head: “You always have a choice, son. Always.”

He supposed his dad was right. But sometimes it didn’t feel like you had a choice when all your choices were bad.

Sometimes things happened so fast that some of your choices were taken from you before you could act.

For example: in this case, a good choice would have been yelling a warning to Lassie. 

The bad guy they thought was subdued and restrained had managed to get an arm free and had pulled a knife from somewhere. There was only one place that knife was going: into Lassie’s broad back— which was facing the supposedly-subdued criminal. 

There wasn’t time for the good choice. The good choice would require: Shawn’s yell, Lassie’s recognition and understanding of the yell, and finally, Lassie’s reaction to the yell. There wasn’t time for all that. There was only time for bad or worse.

His dad was right. He had two choices. He could watch a knife kill an unsuspecting detective, or he could stop it.

There wasn’t time to think. There wasn’t time to yell. There was only time to act. He was too far from the criminal to prevent his throw— he was too far from Lassie to simply push him out of the way. See, Dad? Sometimes there’s only one choice.

Shawn’s only choice was to keep that knife out of Lassie’s back.

So he did.

As soon as he fell, there were gunshots, but Shawn didn’t hear them.

“Spencer!” Lassiter roared, spinning around to see what the commotion was all about. 

“Shawn!” O’Hara cried and ran to his side.

McNab and Dobson, the two officers to whom Lassiter had been giving orders, had seen Shawn leap into the path of the knife meant for their superior. They’d reacted, drawing their weapons and shooting the suspect. Both hit their targets and the would-be murderer slid to the ground, dead.

Juliet was frantically feeling for a pulse in Shawn’s neck. 

“Wha—” Lassiter shouted. It took him less than a second to take in the smoking guns of the officers, the dead perp with one arm free of his restraints, and the knife buried in the psychic’s chest. “What’d he do that for?!” He understood what Shawn had done for him, he couldn’t understand why.

Juliet wasn’t about to explain it to him. “He’s got a pulse!” she shouted. “Call 911!” Then she turned to the unconscious man at her knees, “C’mon, Shawn,” She called to him, “Hold on. Help is on the way.”

Lassiter stared at the knife. He knew from experience that as long as help arrived in time, Spencer would probably recover. The position and angle of the knife were such that the wound was unlikely to be fatal. 

Such was not the case for himself, he realized. He had presented their prisoner with a perfect target. If Spencer hadn’t sacrificed himself, Lassiter would probably be dead now. 

He swallowed.

He tried to wrap his head around the fact that this annoying man-child— this fake psychic— this person whom he considered to be the bane of his existence— had just taken a knife meant for him. 

Spencer had saved his life.

He knelt next to his partner, “Spencer— you better hang in there— or I will never let you live it down. You hear me?”

The EMTs arrived and began their work.

If he shouted at them to ‘be careful,’ and ‘take good care of him, or else… ‘  
Well, he was just doing what he would do for anyone.

oO0Oo  
End  
oO0Oo


End file.
